Chapter 24 Nate
NATE
The board meeting was going better than I'd expected.
We'd made it through the budget projections without major objections, approved the staffing plan for the new pediatric wing, and were now discussing the hospital's involvement in the Christmas children's program.
The atmosphere felt warmer than it had in months, and the twelve board members seated around the table seemed engaged rather than combative.
I stood at the head of the table, reviewing the presentation slides on the screen behind me.
The program had been a hospital tradition for fifteen years, bringing toys and books to pediatric patients who would be spending the holidays in the hospital.
This year, as Lightkeeper, I would be working alongside the volunteer dressed as Santa to distribute gifts on Christmas Eve.
"The community response has been exceptional," I said, clicking to the next slide showing donation numbers. "We've already collected enough toys to serve every child currently admitted, with surplus going to the children's home downtown."
One of the board members raised his hand.
He was in his sixties, a retired surgeon who had served on the board for over a decade.
His gray eyes were sharp as he looked at me.
"This is all very impressive, Nathan. But I have to ask about the elephant in the room.
" He paused, and I saw several other members shift uncomfortably.
"There's been considerable talk about your involvement in the program this year, given the circumstances surrounding your Lightkeeper appointment. "
I set down the remote for the presentation while I tried to gather myself.
I had hoped we could sail through this meeting without this topic being brought up, but when was the last time something went my way? "What circumstances are you referring to?"
"The scandal with your assistant and the nickname the press has given you." He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his belly. "They're calling you Daddy Claus. The nickname's distasteful, and it's reflecting poorly on the hospital's reputation."
Heat rose in my chest, but I kept my voice level. "My personal life has no bearing on my ability to serve as Lightkeeper or to head up this program."
"Does it not?" Another board member spoke up, a woman who ran a pharmaceutical company.
She leaned forward and folded her fingers together as she offered an accusatory expression. "You're the face of this hospital, Nathan. When people see you in the news with that young woman, they associate those images with our institution. We have had donors expressing concern."
I'd hoped to tell them about Ember today.
She and I had agreed that announcing the relationship would be a good thing, to keep HR off our backs.
But the mention of that nickname stopped me cold.
The judgment in their voices made it clear that any defense I offered would only confirm their worst assumptions about my choices.
"Expressing concern about what, exactly?" I asked instead.
"About whether the dean of medicine has the judgment necessary to lead this institution." The retired surgeon leaned forward, and all I could see was my father's face as he said the same words.
I wondered if he'd said something to them the way he threatened to.
I forced myself to remain calm but I was starting to get very frustrated with them.
It felt like I was fighting an uphill battle one-handed.
I understood how image played into a part of the reputation of this hospital, but it felt like the whole world—except my mother—was against me.
And it all came down to people's personal opinions on Ember's age.
If she was thirty-five they wouldn't be saying half of this, and if she was forty, it would be a non-issue.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I ignored it, about to defend Ember and explain that what we had was real and worth protecting.
But the expressions around the table stopped me.
These people would never understand what Ember and I had.
All of them were older than me by at least a year, and not a single one of them would give me grace to even explain my position.
My phone buzzed again almost immediately with another call, and I knew it was important.
No one calls twice in a row that quickly unless it's necessary.
"Excuse me," I said, pulling out the phone to see Ember's name flashing on the screen.
She would know better than to call during work hours unless something was genuinely urgent.
I looked at the board members, all watching me with varying degrees of annoyance, but their opinions weren't half as important as the woman I loved.
"I need to take this call. There's an emergency."
"We are in the middle of a meeting," the retired surgeon protested.
"I am aware of that. This can’t wait." I stepped away from the table and through the doorway before I answered. "Ember? What's wrong?"
Her voice came through in broken gasps and panicked sobs. "Nate, they know. Everyone knows. It's on the news and people were surrounding me and they found out about my past and I couldn't get away from them—"
"Slow down. Take a breath. I can't understand you." I took a few steps down the hallway away from the cracked open door. "Where are you right now?"
"I'm home—your home." She was crying so hard, I could barely make out the words. "They found out about San Diego. About who I used to be. My real name is everywhere on the news."
My stomach dropped. "What do you mean, everywhere?"
"The television. The internet. My old photos from college." Her breathing was ragged and uneven. "There were so many people on the street, Nate. They were recording me on their phones and asking questions and laughing at me and I couldn't get past them."
My heart sank.
"Listen to me carefully. Lock all the doors right now. Don't answer if anyone knocks or rings the bell. I'm leaving the hospital immediately." I was already moving toward my office to get my coat and keys. "I'll be there in twenty minutes at most."
"I am so sorry. This is all my fault."
"You have nothing to apologize for. Stay inside where you're safe and wait for me."
I ended the call and kept walking, not realizing Robert Kline was following me.
"Nathan, we've been kind enough to wait on this, but we really need to finish this discussion…"
He seemed winded trying to keep up with me, but I didn't slow my stride.
"I have a personal emergency that requires my immediate attention," I said as I stormed into my office, gathering my keys from the desk. "We will need to reschedule the rest of this meeting."
"Nathan—the Christmas program… The concerns we've raised."
I turned on him and stopped, finally meeting his eyes. "Look, I don’t have time for this. My assistant will send out a scheduling poll to find a time that works for everyone next week."
"Your assistant's on medical leave," Robert grumbled.
"Then my temporary assistant will handle it." I was already at the door. "I have to go."
I left before he could raise further objections, taking the stairs down to the parking garage rather than waiting for the elevator.
My mind raced as I descended the four flights, trying to piece together what Ember had told me through her tears.
Someone had connected her current identity to her past in San Diego.
And they'd dug up the scandal that had driven her across the country to start over with a new name.
Everything she had worked so hard to leave behind was now public knowledge.
I couldn't imagine how crushing that weight was.
I reached my car and threw my briefcase into the passenger seat, starting the engine and backing out of my parking space faster than was safe.
The hospital was on the north side of Beacon Hill and my brownstone was on the south side.
The drive normally took twenty minutes, but I could make it in fifteen if I ignored a few speed limits.
I merged onto the main road and floored the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles started to hurt.
Ember had sounded absolutely terrified on the phone, so panicked I knew it wasn’t good for her or the baby.
I knew she was safe at home, but the idea of her suffering and dealing with this emotional moment alone gutted me.
My phone rang through the car's speakers.
I glanced at the dashboard display and saw an unfamiliar number.
I almost declined the call, but some instinct made me answer, fearing it was important.
"This is Dr. Bradley."
"Nathan, this is Tom Reed." If my chest wasn't already so tight, I'd have thought I was having a heart attack. This, now? "I would like to have a word with you in person. Are you available to meet this afternoon?"
My jaw clenched. "I'm dealing with a family emergency at the moment."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Is it your father? We spoke earlier." He paused but didn't seem the slightest bit compassionate. "The committee has some very serious concerns about recent developments, and we need to address them immediately before the Thanksgiving festival next week."
"Can't this conversation wait until tomorrow morning?"
"I'm afraid it can't wait that long. The situation is extremely time-sensitive given the media coverage." His tone made it clear he wouldn't accept any argument. "I'll be at my office until six this evening. Please stop by as soon as you're able to do so."
The line went dead before I could respond.
I pressed harder on the accelerator and changed lanes to pass a slower car.
The committee chairman wouldn't call demanding an immediate meeting unless he was preparing to take action.
He was almost certainly planning to force me out of the Lightkeeper role, probably citing some clause about moral conduct or bringing disgrace to the tradition.
Or maybe it was Ember's position as Hearthkeeper.
But how could they deny her the right to serve simply because of her past?
That felt unjust and it made me angrier.
But whatever the committee wanted would have to wait. Right now, Ember was alone and frightened, and nothing else mattered more than getting to her.